


A Bird in the Hand

by Embleer_Frith0323



Category: DCU (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: A Smattering of Foul Language, Blow Jobs, Cybersex, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Gay Sex, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Porn with Feelings, Sexting, Softcore Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 10:01:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27849018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Embleer_Frith0323/pseuds/Embleer_Frith0323
Summary: Dick jokingly sends an R-rated pic Wally's way. Wally not-jokingly escalates things.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Wally West
Comments: 60
Kudos: 221





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prettybird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettybird/gifts).



> ~This little fic will see some additions in the near future--it is but the first installment in what will hopefully become a multi-installment series~ :D
> 
> Hope this fits the bill, Prettybird! ^_^ Love and hugs and I'm praying you enjoy! <3 
> 
> Happy reading, y'all, and much love!
> 
> Xoxoxoxoxoxoxo,  
> EF <3

**A Bird in the Hand**

  
  


It happened one night — as a lot of things do.

I lay on my back and sighed, staring up at the ceiling as though it held all the answers to life. The bed under me was unmade and messy — a reminder that I hadn’t been home in my Blüdhaven loft much lately, and the last time I was here, I’d had to leave in a hurry. 

Breaking up, as the song says, is hard to do — and sometimes for the reasons you don’t always expect. You love someone and either a. they don’t reciprocate (which sucks), b. they reciprocate but don’t see it working out (which also sucks), c. they reciprocate but aren’t ready for a commitment (cough, previously guilty, cough — still sucks)... and on and on. Then follow the usual things that come with these breakups — anger, resentment, bitterness, jealousy, the insistence you’re just fine without them (even when you’re demonstrably not.) The overwhelming punch of loneliness and sadness. Grief. Depression. Loss. There’s a reason so much literature and media are devoted almost exclusively to the subject.

But there’s a whole heck of a lot that no one bothers to warn others in the same boat about — like the _boredom_ and the _silence_ and the dreaded _stag_ status in social events that all comes in the big breakup kit and caboodle. Just going to a _movie_ can become an ordeal — when before you were a package deal and your partner was unfailingly available (or at least amenable to coordinating), suddenly you have to go through a freaking _Zelda_ dungeon just to find a platonic date to see the latest Marvel movie. Not to mention the permeating _loneliness_ that comes with all of it, threatening to turn you into a one-man emo band as you croon your angst into the empty air of your apartment.

That’s where I found myself while lying on my bed that fateful night, gazing at the ceiling, antsy and drained all at once. Broken up with Barbara, and bored and entirely unoccupied on my own. I heaved a sigh, and sat up, reaching for my phone.

I’d already trained — in my home gym, with Black Canary, with Bruce. I’d already worked in the morning — a half-day with the BPD so I’d be able to do my AWS: Reinvent presentation on Cloud security and engineering in the afternoon. (Zeta Tubes — where would we be without them?) I’d already run reports for the League. I’d already had a late coffee with Wally to whine about our recent breakups. I’d already patrolled. I’d traipsed around Hyrule in _Breath of the Wild 2,_ I’d caught up on _The Mandalorian_ and _The Boys,_ I’d showered.

In other words, I’d stayed about as busy as I humanly could have, shy of picking up a new hobby like scrapbooking or knitting. I was two seconds from considering both.

It was at these fusty, headachy, tired-but-wired predawn hours that always saw me in the deepest throes of my loneliness and singlehood. The empty space in the bed that Babs used to stretch out across loomed barren, melancholy and foreboding, portending an indeterminate future packed full of these pitifully lonely nights. 

I was at least past the point of missing her to the extent that it was physically painful (thank God for that much.) But her absence didn’t stop me feeling ill at ease, thoughts speeding like a pod race through my brain. I scrolled through some Google recommended stories, but found nothing I could even hope to focus on. I rested my phone on my chest and buzzed my lips, wishing that Wally were at hand or at _least_ awake and online to keep me from going out of my skull. 

It was something he’d always done for me — that we’d always done for each other, really, grounding (and bolstering) the other. That was one of the things about my best pal — he always brought out the best in me. And those days? I _needed_ my best to be brought out loads more than usual. The fact that he did, too, just made us spend that much more time together. 

I stared at the string lights that draped the window, the dim illumination of the broken down city outside diffuse under the crappy weather. I decided to leave the lights going, since I had a feeling I’d be up once or twice before finally passing out for a few hours. I rubbed at my eyes and forehead, and trained my eyes on my ceiling, finding the marks in its surface that looked like specific shapes. A rabbit here, a truck there (if you _really_ stretched your imagination.) Sometimes just blanking out and gazing up without any hard focus shuttled me off to lala land.

Nothing doing. Again, I raised my phone, figuring it might be time for _Pornhub._ When nothing else worked to send me off to the often elusive world of Z’s, a workout or a date with Rosie Palms usually did the trick. Since I’d already exercised my body into a very real, very sore fatigue, risking blindness or lightning strikes it was.

I pulled the site up on my phone, picking through the tags to find a video that appealed to me. I had just settled on something nicely titillating and started in on the old act of self-indulgence when my phone showed a text from Wally at the top of the screen. I grimaced a little — I mean, timing much, Walls? — but I opened it, still working things below the equator.

 _Poke poke poke poke poke you awake pal?_ it read.

 _In a manner of speaking, kinda XD,_ I replied. _What’s up?_

 _Nothing much, I just can’t fuckin sleep -_-,_ he griped.

 _Join the club, we’ve got jackets,_ I sent. I ceased and desisted the self love to make myself available. My dick wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was _Pornhub_. I continued, _Bed feeling empty?_

 _Yeah :-/ Dude I haven’t slept alone like a sad sack in like 6 or 7 years… It’s WEIRD,_ he texted. _We’re still friends and everything but it’s not like Artemis is going to drop by to sleep over just because I’m used to her being here._

 _I know that feel, bro. At least you have a dog. Is Brucely around?_ I asked. _You can always cuddle up to him if all else fails._

_Artemis has him tonight D:_

_Tough break, dude,_ I told him. _Maybe I should get you a stuffed animal for your birthday next month. Or ACTUALLY one of those anime girl pillows with Sailor Moon on it. :D_

 _But duuuuude Sailor Moon’s not my favorite! As my best pal you should know this :P,_ he sent. 

I snorted. _Picky picky :P_

_Well if I’m gonna hump something jerking off I at LEAST want it to be right._

_Fine, Tuxedo Mask then,_ I returned.

_LMAO._

_Pornhub’s gonna see a decrease in traffic if I get that for you though,_ I told him. 

_Pfff, you’ll make up for my absence,_ he sent in reply. 

_...Can’t deny that one. Speaking of that I might have to excuse myself a minute, you caught me in the middle of a little jaunt through some NSFW vids :P_

_IS THAT SOOOOOOO -shame-,_ he texted.

_...I might or might not be pitching a damn circus tent in my boxers D:_

_A circus tent??_

_#guilty,_ I told him.

 _Bahahahaha nahhh it’s a puppet tent at best :D,_ Wally sent. 

_Nope,_ I sent, laughing, _my boxers are such a giant tent I’m pretty sure Haly’s is still in there :P_

 _Screenshots or STFU,_ Wally texted.

I snickered, bent one knee, and threw a sheet over it. I sent a photo of the display to Wally. 

_Try and deny it,_ I captioned the picture. 

_Is this when we play ass or elbow, except now it’s leg or dong? Because that’s totally your leg :P_

_Nope,_ I replied. 

_Yep._

_Okay technically it’s my knee,_ I sent. _But no joke about the circus tent. -is suffering- -leave me alone-_

_Keep suffering ya liar XD Like I said, screenshots or STFU!_

Again, I snickered. _You oughta be careful what you wish for, because you know I have no shame and I’ll scar you for life without remorse if you want proof so bad XD_

_You act like I haven’t seen you naked a hundred times in the Watchtower locker room -shrug- I KNOW it’s a puppet tent._

_I’m a grower, not a shower._

_Wtf does that even mean XD_

I smirked. _You asked for it…_

Considering that I was still somewhat activated in the nether regions and that I really couldn’t help but find the idea of Wally squirming at the sight of my tented boxers hilarious to no end, I threw the sheets away. Giving my dwindling erection a couple yanks to get the flag sailing at full mast, I positioned my boxers to keep the upcoming image mindful of parental guidance parameters. I took a photo, then, cackling to myself, gleefully sent it Wally’s way.

There was a disorienting moment after hitting the send prompt that I floundered, wondering why in the world I had just sent my best pal a photo of my erection (hidden, granted, but still — that photo wouldn’t leave any secrets despite the noble efforts of my boxers.) That was… not exactly what I’d call an especially _usual_ move, regardless of how close two friends might be or how many joking photos of one’s asscrack they might have sent in games of Asses or Elbows while bored at work. I sat, phone in hand, worrying now that this action would do nothing more than freak Wally out and decide to write me off forever for being a consummate weirdo.

Or was it just seeming weird because I was _feeling_ weird? An odd sensation had risen in me — something unsolicited and involuntary that clouded my thinking. I had a completely bizarre curiosity about Wally’s reaction to my sheathed sword — and moreover, what his reaction to said proverbial sword would be if it were to be unsheathed. It was the same line of thinking that tends to rise when flirting with a girl over text message or IM — the want to _share_ yourself in hopes of acceptance and praise from a person you want so much to impress. 

But let’s be real — unless you’re asked via an _extremely explicit_ request… an impromptu dick pic sent a girl’s way is pretty much the same as a house cat presenting a mutilated dead mouse to its owner. The recipient can see you’re proud, but they’d rather you get that thing away from them so fast the wind of its passing would tear the shingles from the roofs. Rightfully so. 

And what happens if you just sent a poorly packaged dead mouse your bestie’s way? Your best friend who doesn’t even swing in your direction, and hitherto, you didn’t, either? 

I lifted a pillow, covered my face with it, and screamed. 

My phone pinged, and although I was scared witless to see what a harbinger of particularly terrible doom it might have become, I scrambled to check it.

 _Damn,_ the text read. _I didn’t know you were THAT excited to talk to me._

I stared a moment, then huffed a laugh. Well, nothing to fret over — but along with the unexpected curiosity came a bit of bewilderment to just send my little world teeter-tottering off in another careening hamster wheel. 

Before I could reply, Wally sent, _It’s all good, though, I’m that excited talking to me too -shrug-_

 _Doubtless you’ve got a puppet tent of your own going strong in those little tighty-whiteys,_ I sent.

 _How dare you!_ Wally sent. _I’ll have you know I’m NOT strangling the boys in tighty-whiteys. :P And FYI my tent is bigger than yours -dusts knuckles-_

 _Wishful thinking, Wall-man. Isn’t it more about how you use it, anyway?_ I sent, laughing now, a little more at ease, although my heart was still going a mile a minute and I could _feel_ the heat in my face.

 _Don’t make me demonstrate both my superior size and prowess, Dickieboy,_ Wally returned. 

_Wally West, I am a man of science. And maths. I must have hard, solid proof to back up any sort of pseudoscientific (and highly biased) claim._

If I thought my world was whirling about in a little hamster wheel a moment ago, it got rocketed off into an amusement park ride at the next text I got.

 _This hard and solid enough for you? -shrug-_ captioned the photo sent — one that mimicked mine. His, um… _parts_ were mostly covered by his own undergarments (although there was a peek at some skin through the opening in his boxers.) There was _no_ hiding the fact that Wally was standing at extreme attention.

I gazed at the photo, feeling a burn starting up in my middle, blushing through my chest. The curiosity I experienced prior amplified a hundredfold. And then it hit me like a profound smack from a polo mallet — were we _flirting?_

I paused, and scrolled back up through the text window. Rereading what was sent and received, I huffed a sound of astonishment.

Yep, there was no mistaking it — this was _flirting_. Well. At least on _my_ end it was — I couldn’t speak for Wally, as there was some room for interpretation from his messages. But looking through mine, and turning over my thoughts as though they were something of a puzzle box to solve, I came to the conclusion that yes, I very much was flirting. With Wally. My best friend.

I wormed my lip, the erection in my boxers now gone from activated to entering painful red zones, the blood in my veins blistering hot with ever increasing curiosity and an odd, exhilarating _want._ I didn’t know what flirting — and to this extent, bordering on _sexting_ — with my male and apparently hetero best friend meant for me in the larger scheme of things. I didn’t know what this deliberate flirting becoming mutual meant for Wally, either. 

But I found that I _wanted_ to know.

And there wasn’t any real halting this train — it was going, and we were on it, and there was only one way to find out where it led. Depending on my next move, Wally could hit the brakes, or go full speed ahead.

Ha ha ha, well, bye, restraint, and bye, dignity. This was going to be a memorable night if nothing else. 

I took a breath… and then a photo.

I typed in a caption — _Not as hard and solid as this_ — and then hit the send prompt.

Then, I waited. 

Either this friendship was going to remain steady and this text conversation would be something we’d look back and laugh on as a couple guys messing around — or it would shift the trajectory of our relationship with a resounding permanence. 

When my phone pinged, my breath went ragged at what I found.

An overhead selfie. Wally’s torso was shirtless, the muscles emphasized in the lamplight from the nightstand by his bed (the bed that I’d sat on, passed out drunk on the night of my twenty-first birthday, gamed on, chatted on.) He lay sprawled, his cock reaching across his abdomen, his hand cupping its base.

 _I dunno, I think it’s pretty neck and neck,_ the text accompanying the photo read.

Guess the trajectory was altering itself.

My heart zoomed in my chest. My face and neck went even hotter. A quiver started in my limbs.

I couldn’t help it, gazing at that photo. I reached down, grasped my own straining erection, and stroked myself, my hips lifting into my touch. All the while, I was utterly _fixated_ on the image of his naked penis, longer than it was thick, gracefully rising from his hold.

 _I might have a nanometer on you,_ I texted with my free hand. _Since I’m working it and all. Gives me an edge on the competition. :P_

My eyes about popped out of my skull when I got his reply, and I huffed a breathless laugh.

 _Show me,_ it stated simply.

Well. All right, then.

I held my phone up to get a similar angle to the one he’d taken of himself, only this time, I hit the video prompt. I didn’t get too hung up on performing — I’ve found through previous sexting sessions that self-pleasuring stands on its own, no need for posturing. I held onto the image of Wally sprawled on his bed, his hardness in his grip, and just let that vision guide my hand. It was scarcely a second before I was panting, a light moan humming from my throat with each stroke. 

I tapered a little in my ministrations after a moment or two, then ended the video, purposely keeping it brief. I held my breath as I sent it, now all in on this sudden turn in my relationship with Wally. Screw worrying for now — I’d deal with the details and things like _pragmatism_ and _consequences_ later. Right now, all that mattered was what was happening on my iPhone screen.

 _Show me you’re hard for me and I’ll give you more :P,_ I chased the video.

 _Don’t make promises you can’t keep…_ he replied. 

_What, you gonna try to make me bust it?_ I asked.

He texted, _Challenge accepted._

Wally sent a video of his own this time, and watching its contents, I about died (or exploded on the spot. Thankfully, I didn’t, otherwise he’d have had a field day with that for the rest of our natural lives.) He had set up his phone on his nightstand, angled so I had a good view of _all_ of him, his body all lithe muscle and _so much skin._ He rose into his grip, his hand circling his cock in languid, easy swipes, his hips rolling in time with the rhythm he kept. His mouth slackened as his eyes closed and his head fell back. His chest lifted, canted, lifted again; the barrel of his ribs pulsed rapidly with his breath. A sigh rose into a moan. 

I hissed an emphatic four-letter word, and bowed my back, pumping my hand so fast the taut muscles of my arm shook with effort. The video ended with him leveling a smirk on the camera, his hand not once slowing in its touch. 

I wasn’t a stranger to sexting. In fact, I was quite a regular denizen in the territory. It was always fun, even if I’d forever prefer the real deal. But _this_ was next level — bringing with it a sense of newness and daring, something unexplored that awakened a latent wonder that had, undeniably, always been there. 

And it _had_ always been there, at least to _some_ extent, I realized when I was hit by just how _right_ this felt. How long had I wanted to get to know Wally like this? And was this just a little flight of satisfying some curiosity that would be forgotten next week, he and I merely giving each other the cyber equivalent of the Dutch rudder to save ourselves from a bleak future of us and our five fingers forever? Or did I want to touch him — _really_ touch him?

I shot another video, thinking on what it would be like to feel his body against mine, hard, smooth, strong. I imagined the warm damp of his skin, conjured the scent of his hair and taste of his lips. I’d been close to him often enough throughout our years of friendship that these fancies were easy to construct, and even to _believe_ on some level.

I thumbed the head of my cock a moment, staring hard into the camera, then drew my fist down over the shaft, pushing my hips up as my hand came down. I groaned at the idea of sliding inside him, imagining the sensation of him _accepting_ me into his body. I exhaled, then stilled my hand, finally letting loose to thrust into it. 

“God, I wanna fuck you so bad,” I gasped, accelerating. 

I hardly had the presence of mind to end the video and send it. Somehow, though, and probably by some divine miracle, I retained enough cognition outside of my visualizations to do so. 

_Fuck, dude!_ he sent in response.

Some moments passed, and then Wally gave me a (good) surprise when he Skyped me.

“Hey,” I said breathlessly when I answered and saw his face — flushed, eyes aglow, hair mussed — as it filled my screen. 

“Hey, man,” he murmured, and as he lay back, his body came into (glorious) view. “Didn’t expect _this_ to chase that coffee date from earlier.”

“No kidding — you didn’t even buy my latte for me,” I said with a mock pout. 

He grinned. “Was nice of you to buy mine, though, you gentleman… ” He took his cock — still rock hard — into his hand again. “Anyway I can return that favor?”

I grinned back. “A gentlemanly cumshot oughta get you square with the house again.”

He inclined his head, his respiration a little erratic as he pistoned his wrist. “Is that _all_ you want?”

I resumed my own motions, pulling my erection into an angle perpendicular to my abdomen — you know, showing off a little. “Well, I’d rather have my mouth on your cock, but it’ll do for now.”

“Ahh, I _want_ your mouth on my cock,” he breathed, his movements growing faster.

“What else do you want?” I asked, rocking my hips in tandem with the pull of my hand. I was getting close — my belly was clinching up, my quads gone tight and shaking.

“I wanna push you down on that bed and look down at you while I fuck you,” he gasped. “God, your _body_ — I just wanna cum in that perfect ass —”

I don’t know _why,_ exactly, but that did it. I came shouting, the cum bursting all across my middle and chest. I sagged on my back atop my bed, my breath coming hard and deep. I swore, wishing even as my cock kept spasming that I hadn’t been the first to finish. How embarrassing.

“Oh, yeah, _that’s_ a cumshot,” Wally said, his voice breaking into the ringing in my ears. 

Then, as I turned my gaze to my phone, he breathed my name, his eyes meeting mine through the screen. He tugged himself hard, his mouth agape and jawing, until the cum exploded all over his own abdominals and the sound of his cry distorted in its volume over the speaker. 

The report of our spent breathing punctuated the collective silence of our cybernetically connected rooms, then, as the charged energy calmed and rescinded. I took in a breath and let go a sigh, and turned my gaze to my best friend. 

“Damn,” I said to break the quiet, smiling, and then laying my hand on my forehead. “Guess that just happened.”

“Yeah…” Wally said, rubbing at his hair, blushing (adorably.) “Yeah, it did. What’s _that_ mean?”

I sobered, my smile upending to a frown. “I… don’t know, to be honest. I mean, last I checked, I was straight when I woke up this morning.” I grimaced. “Or at least I _thought_ I was. Guess I’m going to have to reevaluate that?”

“Well, same, dude. I don’t think I’ve ever even… like… _considered_ a guy like this. But what about…” He paused, and turned onto his side, resting his head on his hand. “I mean — how about we get together and talk about it?”

I gave him a quizzical look. “Like a _date?”_

He smiled, and in spite of all my bewilderment and the sense that my world had just blasted out into space on a rogue _Fortnite_ ball, I melted dead away. 

“Yeah,” he said, his smile widening. “Like a date. And… maybe we can try this in person, you know, if we’re feeling it.”

I grinned back at him. “I’m in like Flynn, Walls. It’s a date.”


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

  
  


I took a breath, held it, and stared at my reflection in the mirror.

“Okay, get it together, Boy Dingus,” I told my face peering back at me. “It’s just Walls. If there’s anyone you can feel slightly less than awkward exploring this potential next phase of your life with, it’s that guy.”

I straightened up, patted my abdomen twice (adorned in arguably my most flattering button-down), squared my shoulders and spun to leave the bathroom. I’d already cleared the plethora of grooming materials I’d gone through to get ready for this date (whaaaaat?!) on the occasion that Wally ended up back in my apartment. It felt strange to _romance_ my best pal — my _same sex_ best pal — but even if this was new territory, I didn’t want to treat it any differently than I would on a normal date by date basis. I mean, the whole point of this little outing was to figure out if we wanted to be a Thing, right?

 _Maybe,_ I thought, inhaling before I could start sweating nervous bullets and thereby make a wreck of my shower and veritable boatload of deodorant. _Could also be he’s horny and backed up and not thinking straight. Could be you’re much of the same. God, I hope this isn’t a mistake…_

It might have been, it might not have been — there was only one way to find out. If it was, though, I had the grateful feeling that Wally and I would be able to weather it as friends in time. God knew we’d been through just about everything else together, including a serious falling out some years before. Surely if this little madcap expedition went south, we could get through it… right?

I heaved a sigh, threw on a coat and scarf (that Artemis had gotten me — where would the awkwardness end?!) and headed out my front door to meet Wally in Gotham.

 _Pottery throwing and dinner,_ I thought with a light snort, _nothing says exploratory romance quite like that._

Wally stood waiting for me at the entrance to the outdoor mall where the pottery place was, wearing his coat and jeans, his hair in place and face shaven. I’d left my stubble alone that day, recalling that every last one of my girlfriends said they liked a little five o’clock shadow on me. I just hoped Wally would agree with them.

As for Wally, he looked _adorable_.

I smiled as I approached him. 

“Sup, man!” he said, grinning. 

“Hey,” I said, falling into step with him as we strode under the lantern-lit archway to make our way toward the pottery place. “Ready to make Link proud and throw some pots?”

“Dude, I could use the extra rupees,” he said with a chuckle. “Central High pays dick, pardon the expression.” 

I laughed. “No offense taken — and I feel that one, I might as well say I volunteer for the BPD with what they pay me.”

“Sure, says the trust fund kid,” he said, nudging my arm. “You oughta be swimming in yachts and luxury vehicles and private islands with that thing.”

“And sacrifice my almighty pride? Not gonna happen,” I told him. “Although… tonight might be a good night to chuck my principles, though — gotta woo my lady fair, after all.”

He leaned into me a bit. “Oh, la, good sir, but homemade pottery _does_ make me weak in the knees!”

I clasped him about his waist and spun him around, relying on those ballroom dance classes I took as a kid to prep for society shindigs with Bruce. When he straightened, I was surprised — but gratified — to feel his fingers entwine in mine. 

“So are you going to keep what you make or give it away?” he asked.

“Believe it or not,” I said, “I might give mine to Alfred and plant some herbs in it for him. I’d consider giving it to Bruce… but mostly I’m afraid I’d just wind up throwing it at his head.”

He laughed. “You’d have to feint like five times at a speed faster than can be achieved by a vanilla non-meta to nail him —”

“My feelings!” I lamented.

“—But, I have faith in you.” He smiled at me, and I melted in a way I could never have anticipated. I shifted a little closer to him. 

It was strange, the handholding — how _right_ it felt, much like the texting and video call had. Our closeness felt natural, too. I glanced sidelong at Wally, noticing little things about him I hadn’t before, like the keen angle of his jaw, the straight length of his nose, the curvature of his lips that always made him appear sanguine. The freckles he’d had in his youth were less pronounced now, but still there on inspection. My eyes traveled from his chin to the slight arch that formed the shape of his lower lip. 

_Later,_ I told myself as we continued on our way. _No hurry._

Making pottery was an easy and companionable affair, seeing us interacting much as we usually did, just chatting over non-YJ things and enjoying the rare opportunity to be normal people together. I shared with him some newer stories I’d racked up as a cop in the most crime-addled city in America, and he confided that he’d turned the tables on quite the prank one of his upperclassmen students had attempted to pull on him. 

“Oh? What happened?” I asked.

“Well, this kid is already kind of my token class clown this year — didn’t surprise me that he made a pretty admirable attempt to pull the whoopee cushion prank on me to kick off the three day weekend.”

“Really? The whoopee cushion?” 

“The one and only — not the most inspired, granted, but a classic, I’ll give him that. Lucky for me, and arguably unlucky for him, though, I noticed my chair was looking a little suspect from the second I walked into the room, allowing me to investigate and discover — _It’s a trap! —_ before the class could think I’d just ripped a nice, big, wet one right in front of everybody.”

I chuckled. “So what’d you do?”

“Well, being a speedster definitely has some benefits, dude — I called the kid up to the front, then used my speed to relocate the whoopee cushion to _his_ seat and get back to my desk without being noticed. When he sat down? _Ppppbbbttttt.”_

I hunched over the wheel, laughing. “How’d you _explain_ that?” 

He joined me in laughing. “I told him I was able to flip his plan on its ear with simple physics — not exactly a lie.”

Our pottery endeavors would be returned to the following day so we could paint them. Once we had turned our respective pieces over to the instructors for firing in the kiln, Wally and I left to have dinner at a cozy, stylized tavern in the same complex we both liked. Seated across from each other in the restaurant’s softly lit confines with its wooden walls and green leather booths, I studied the menu a moment, vacillating a bit.

I caved and ordered a mojito. Drinking was not a frequent thing for me, but the occasion felt fitting. Wally chuckled, and ordered a Sex on the Beach with a pointed Look in my direction. I waited until the waitress left, then I lifted a brow at Wally.

“You know,” I said, “if that’s what you want, you can just ask — no need to be discreet.”

He smiled at me in such a way that there ought to have been a halo floating over his red hair. “Well, a little discretion is called for in situations when you’ve got some nerves to kill, oh, non-speedster best pal o’ mine.”

I adopted a scandalized look. “I don’t know what you mean…”

He grinned, and once again, I melted. 

“Speaking of that,” he said, “does Barb know that this is your first date since you guys broke up over the summer?”

I shook my head. “No, I haven’t talked to her. My partner knows, though.”

Telling my partner at the BPD before anyone else made the most sense — while it wasn’t something that Gannon advertised at work, he had confided in me shortly after we started working together that he was gay. That aside, we had become extremely close over the years of working together as partners, and with him being somewhat removed from Wally, he just seemed like the right person to share my newly discovered potential bisexuality with.

To my surprise (and amusement), Gannon had laughed and crowed, “I _knew_ it!”

I had jokingly pouted, but inwardly I found his response somehow comforting — as though it validated something in me I hadn’t realized _needed_ validating.

And here I was, days later, facing Wally across the table on a date — with every new dynamic introduced between us feeling every bit as natural as the last. 

“Yeah, I haven’t mentioned it to Artemis, either,” Wally said. “It’s not that I won’t, or don’t intend to — I just… haven’t?”

“Afraid she’ll castrate either or both of us?” I asked.

“Me more than you, I think,” Wally said with a laugh. 

“I disagree…” I said, suddenly fretting. “I mean, I know I swore off breaking out in hives at the thought of extensive commitment when Barb and I got together, but that doesn’t mean to the outside eye I won’t go back to my wicked ways now the relationship is over.”

“Oh, come on, man. It’s common knowledge you’re not the commitment-phobe you used to be, and plus Arty’s never been judgey about your rep as the team bicycle, anyway. What’d she say about it? That you owe it to the world as a twelve out of ten to sow your wild oats as much as humanly possible?”

I huffed a laugh, but sobered quickly and wormed my lip. “Well, I’m still not sure she’d be too crazy about my cyclist roster extending to her ex.”

“Well. We’ll chew that food when we have to,” Wally said, and I smiled to hear him say _we._

After dinner, we took a stroll along the walking path that lined the pond nearby the shopping mall. I chewed some cinnamon Altoids and offered some to Wally as we made our way along the water. We talked amiably as we walked hand-in-hand, insulated against the October chill by each other’s nearness.

“So…” Wally said after a time, slowing to a halt beneath a brilliantly colored autumnal tree. Its leaves shown as red as his hair, lit from beneath by the amber light from a nearby lamppost. “Other than getting our hands dirty at the pottery place, I’d say this night has functioned pretty comfortably as a nice, safe, textbook first date.”

I chuckled. “Someone told me you like candlelit dinners and long walks on the beach.”

He nudged me a bit with a grin, and stepped closer. “Guilty. But it’s still missing something for it to hit the _ideal_ point.”

I inclined my head. “An actual beach?”

He pulled me toward him, and next thing I knew, his mouth had covered mine. Even if I was surprised, it didn’t take me more than a second to respond — everything about the soft warmth of his lips and the way his body melded into mine felt completely and undeniably _right._ Every atom in my form gravitated to his touch, lifting my arms to wrap around Wally and draw him closer to me. I shivered when I felt his tongue, flicking at my lips, pressing into my mouth with a gentle — but insistent — probe. I inhaled the aroma of his skin and the heat of his breath, savoring the sweetness of cinnamon and the hints of something more visceral and _male_. Fisting my hands in the folds of his coat, I moved my grip up and down his back and thrilled to feel his fingers as they laced in my hair.

 _How have I never kissed him before,_ I wondered madly, vibrating down to the bones, _how could I have not realized I_ wanted _to before now —_

It went on like this for longer than what might have been considered appropriate in such a public venue, but given the cold and the hour, foot traffic was light. Still, before some hapless passerby could catch us in the middle of a heated PDA, I pulled back from Wally just far enough to speak. I could still feel the warmth of his respiration on my upper lip, puffing fast.

“Do you want to take this somewhere more private?” I breathed.

His eyes in the lamplight overhead were a wild shade of vibrant green, glittering fiercely in his flushed face. He didn’t speak, but clasped the back of my head, and in a dizzying flash of disorientation accompanied by a familiar skittering sound, we were at my apartment door. I laughed, by now accustomed to Wally carting me around at full (now supersonic) speed. He gave me a smile with a devilish quality that about drove me crazy.

“Dick,” he said, the smile fading, his eyes now holding mine in a febrile gaze.

“Hmm.”

“If that door opens,” he said, “you know more’s gonna happen.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You’re okay with that?”

“As long as you are,” I said. 

He yanked me to him, and kissed me with a wild fierceness. “Trust me, I’m fine with it — I want you _so bad_ right now, you have no idea —”

At the same time that I kissed him, I fumbled in my coat pocket, got my key out, and broke away long enough to get the door open. I had scarcely turned to face Wally, stepping backward over the threshold, before he had pushed me all the way inside. Within seconds, my back was pressed against the kitchen island, Wally’s weight pushing me into its marble edge. His hands fought with the buttons of my coat and shirt. The close air of the apartment met my bare skin as he peeled the clothes from my torso, the sensation of my disrobing going right into my blood. I pulled Wally’s coat and shirt from him and tossed them aside while his fingers worked at my belt buckle. As he got my jeans open, I pressed closer to him, feeling his skin against mine, the flesh hot and tremulous where it touched my naked chest. The feeling of his body was so _different —_ hard and flat and geometric, where Barbara, Zatanna, and the rest had been full of bows and contours and soft places. _Nothing_ about Wally was soft — least of all the growing, stiffening ridge in his jeans that ground against my own swelling erection. When my jeans at last opened and listed at my hips, he hooked his fingers in the elastic of my boxers, pulling them down until my cock sprang free. 

Wally’s lips trailed across my throat, feathering at my collarbones, the touch soft and light — a contrast to the strong grip he locked around my erection. The stroke and rhythm he kept were hard and fast, serious business, sparking a burn in my middle that thrummed and grew. His mouth met mine, swallowing the little pants and moans I had no hope of controlling. His fingers trailed over the arch of my sack, a wash of tingling going through my legs and weakening them at the blush of sensation. My gut was already tightening — the end was nigh.

Determined not to come first this time, I locked my hands at his waist, gave him a bit of a push, then whirled to slam him against the surface of the counter. His hold released, and he gave an exhilarated laugh that I smothered with my lips. I tugged at his belt and the fastening of his jeans, yanking the denim and the cotton of his briefs down in one hard pull. Clasping his throat lightly in one hand, I nipped at Wally’s lip, then held it in my teeth a moment, sucking and pulling until I released the sliver of flesh. 

Lowering to my knees, I trailed my hands down his arms and kissed his throat, his chest, the line of his belly. Coming face to face with his manhood like this lit a fire in me the likes of which I’d not experienced hitherto — it was a heat that bloomed through the whole of my being, warming me to the core and causing my entire body to shake with untrammeled excitement. I breathed over his erection, taking in the rich, unique, concentrated scent of him, finally parting my lips at the head of his cock to press my tongue to the dome of skin there. My skin rippled to hear him moan — loudly, without shame — as I drew him down deep, hollowing out my cheeks and _pulling._ I dug my hands into his hips, keeping him where I wanted him, as I integrated the feeling of his weight filling my mouth. It was harder on my jaw than I might have thought, more stifling; my breath could only be taken through my nose. I was fine with this, however, filling my olfactories with eau de Wally, loving the sense of being so close to and full of him. 

His hips rocked with me as I lifted and canted, the sound of his voice singing into the air around us. I released him, shifting down to engulf his sack, working his shaft with one hand, keeping the other at his waist. His fingers closed in my hair, squeezing and pulling, the whole of his body quaking. His muscles were taut as they shivered — one could have bounced a marble from their tight surfaces. I clasped his hip and moved my mouth to his cock, pressing him to the counter behind him. 

“Dick —” he hissed, his hands fisting my hair in painful tangles. 

He leapt and pulsed, coming _hard_ into my throat, the fluid thick and luke. It was strange initially, unfamiliar; but I took my time swallowing, delighting in torturing him a little. I sucked at his softening cock until he sagged and slipped from my lips. His hands pressed into my shoulders, bracing his weight as he breathed raggedly into the warmth of the loft. I was so hard it _hurt_ by then, my own erection burgeoning in a painful mass that threatened to bust at the slightest touch. I lifted up and met his lips, pushing my tongue into his mouth.

He broke away after a moment, his face ruddied and feverish. He gave me a light shove, then hit his knees in front of me.

“Your turn,” he said, looking up at me a moment, his green eyes catching the glow from the string lights under the cabinetry. In all my years, I’d never seen such a clear, beautiful color as that of Wally’s eyes. I all but went to liquid at the sight — and at the sound of his words.

The warmth of his breath exhaled over my inguen, his fingers finding and pressing into my buttocks. I groaned when he swallowed me down without hesitation, his tongue beating at the length of my cock, setting off fireworks in my vision and knotting my muscles up like ripcords. The groan rose into a cry when his lips gaped and his tongue slid down to caress the heft of my balls, the roof of his mouth still pressed to my arousal. His hands gripped my ass and pulled me to him as he shifted, drawing a long, slick lap up the shaft of my hardness to its straining, tumescent head. His tongue fluttered there, pushing the breath from my lungs in a harsh burst.

When he took me in until I met his gullet, it all proved too much. I came with a hoarse shout, my fingers digging into the skin over Wally’s shoulder blades. The tug of his lips as he swallowed blinded me, emasculating my legs until they gave out entirely. He let me go to catch me in his hold, supporting my weight and embracing me as I went to my knees with him. We held one another like this a moment, breathing heavily, finally descending to rest on the wooden floor together with our arms interlaced and our legs the same. We shared warmth and _safety_ with each other as we recovered, his forehead leaning against mine, his hand gentle as it stroked my hair.

Wally kissed me, and I shook to taste my own cum. I locked a hand in his hair, holding him tight to me, never wanting to release him. 

Eventually, he released a long, deep sigh, and drawing back, he traced my cheek and smiled at me — the expression causing me to melt all over again. I wasn’t going to be a solid state of matter for much longer at the rate this was going. I smiled back, a second from falling into laughter. Lying on the floor with him, encircled in his embrace with his taste in my mouth and scent in my nostrils — I was _happy._ Just indescribably happy. He had long been my dearest, closest friend — but loving him like _this_ just clicked immediately into its place, righting something I hadn’t even known was askew.

“Next time,” Wally said, pulling me to him again, now holding my head under his chin, “I hope you know even _more_ will happen.”

That undammed the laughter, and my own mirth got him going, too. 

“God, I hope so,” I said when I’d settled.

He held me tighter, and pressed his lips to my forehead.

“It will,” he whispered.

  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

  
  


Next time, it turned out, would come about that very same night.

Still basking in the afterglow, I cuddled up to Wally on the couch in the living room of my apartment while we played some _Super Mario Bros._ Gaming was quiet, punctuated only by the occasional sounds of frustration or making suggestions or light smatterings of conversation. I absorbed the feeling of Wally’s nearness, drinking it in and letting it dissolve the tension, weariness and disconnection that had festered in me like noxious growths since the summer. His presence had always dispelled those things, but now, his touch seemed to banish them altogether. I rested with him, for the first time in longer than I could recall entirely content. 

Some worlds into the game passed before Wally hit pause, and looked over at me with a smile that seemed somehow conspiratorial. I lifted my brows at him, inclining my head.

He set down his controller, took mine, and placed it on the coffee table. He nuzzled my neck, dropping a kiss or two there, finally shifting to meet my lips. My heart flew into the next gear when his tongue pushed past my teeth, each rapid beat rolling waves of heat through my whole body. I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of kissing him.

The kissing escalated until he’d angled over me on the sofa, his weight braced on his elbows. His fingers wound in my hair.

“Do you need to be home or anything?” I asked, shivering at the feeling of his hand reaching beneath the hem of the tee I’d changed into, his fingers grazing across my abdominals. “Is Brucely at your place?”

“Nah, he’s with Artemis. And I’m a bachelor now, man,” he said, grinning at me. “Well. Maybe… _less_ of a bachelor than I was last week. But it’s not like anyone’s waiting on me to come home with dog food or anything.”

I laughed, returning the favor by sliding my touch under the waist of his jeans. “Less of a bachelor? Wait, there are degrees of bachelorhood?”

His grin widened against my mouth. “Mm-hmm, and there’s still enough of a degree of bachelorhood here that I won’t officially update my status until we’ve consummated this thing.”

Already hard, those words had me straining against the fetters of my clothing. I closed my teeth on his lower lip, pressing my palms to his buttocks beneath the material of his briefs. 

“Is this when all rise for the bedding ceremony?” I said, giving him a squeeze.

“All _have_ risen,” Wally said, making me laugh, grinding against me. “Think it’s time to take this to the bedroom.”

I nodded with gusto, and we rose to head up to the loft bedroom, his hand hot and vibrating in mine. Reaching the foot of the bed, he looped his arms around my waist and kissed me, his touch at once soft and fervent. His hands trailed up my abdominals beneath my shirt, tracing the outlines of the muscles he found, then all at once, he took my shirt in his grip and pulled it over my head. 

“God, your body,” he breathed. He roved his eyes over my torso, then bent to press his lips to the bow of my ribcage. I inhaled, unable to help a smile as I tugged his shirt off. His mouth stayed mashed to mine, and he moved at me until I collapsed backward on the bed beneath him. 

“So…” he said, lifting up a little, and giving me a bit of a half-smile. “If my jeans seem a little heavy, it’s because something other than my _wallet_ is in my pocket.”

“Oh?” I said, sucking at his lip. “Your cell phone?” 

He smirked. “Something other than that, too — try again.”

I gave it another shot. “Hmm… Your cock?” 

He shook his head, reached into his pocket, and produced a bottle of lube. 

I grinned. “Ah… _now_ we’re talking.”

From his other pocket, he extended a few condoms with a flourish. 

“ _Bellissima,”_ I said, my smile spreading.

He eyed me a moment, and setting the tube and rubbers aside, got my jeans and boxers off. I shifted on the bed, resting on my back, watching as Wally rose to divest himself of his briefs. I gazed transfixed at him where he stood naked at the side of the bed, his erection lifting to his belly button. 

“So,” he said, coming to crawl over me, pressing his mouth to mine. “Who’s…” He withdrew and trailed off, leaving the question unasked.

I reached up and rested my knuckles against his cheek. “Well. What are _you_ comfortable with?”

He lifted a brow. “I’d say a fair amount.”

I brushed his hair back from his forehead. “Including… that?”

“Including that.”

I smiled at him. “Have you ever… you know, _done_ anything like that?”

He eyed me, and as comprehension dawned on my awareness, I lifted up a little.

“Did you and Artemis —”

“Peg? Yeah,” he told me, chuckling.

I burst out laughing. “No way!” 

“Way, dude! Come on — you know Artemis is nothing if not a born and bred dominatrix. And don’t _tell_ me you don’t think that if that position is threatened, she won’t jockey for it.”

I shook my head, still laughing. “Yeah, doesn’t surprise me at all, to be honest. But funny you mention it…”

He quirked a brow. “You and Babs, too, huh?”

I nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

His turn to laugh. “I _knew_ it! You know, I wonder if the girls ever talked — and if they did, who gave who the idea.”

I snorted. “You know they both came up with it on their own. There’s a reason they’re such good pals.”

“True,” he said. “Sisters from another mister for real.” He bent, and kissed my neck, flitting his lips over the skin above my collarbone. “So… bottom line, I’m comfortable with pretty much anything — and I’m not going to lie, here, Dick.” He moved his lips to mine, exhaling over my labrum. He lifted a condom, not moving his mouth away, and deftly unwrapped it. I gasped when I felt him touch me, unrolling the condom over my erection. He breathed against my lips, now lifting the lube. “ _I want you.”_

I gripped his hair in both my hands, kissing him, then staring hard into those green eyes. Nerves unspooled in my belly, unraveling through my limbs. I shook visibly. “Are you sure?”

He nodded, slicking up my cock in one motion, and moved his lips to my ear. “Yes.”

I didn’t breathe, my chest full of inbreath and quivering as my lungs held that air. Wally straddled me at the waist, his knees bracketing my hips. He rested a hand on my chest, just at the center, his palm warm and vibrant atop my tremulous skin. It took a moment for me to realize that this was happening — really, truly happening.

Wally reached between us to grasp me in his hold. The shake in his hand betrayed his own anticipation as he guided me to him, his jaw slackening and lips parting as he took me in, bearing down until his sack touched my thighs. I lost hold of the breath I held in a long, low groan, then gasped as he shifted, my cock moving in tandem inside him. He moved his other hand to join the one on my chest, his fingers spreading over my sternum and pectorals. His brow furrowed, his jaw setting, clenched visibly in the string lights. 

“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice so hoarse and uneven it was hardly recognizable as mine.

He nodded. “You’re a little bigger than that strap-on I’m used to.” He leaned down to press his forehead to mine, and before I could apologize, he swallowed the words in a kiss. 

Then, he lifted, came down, lifted again, came back down — and on it went until I grasped his hips, my mouth pressed to his in not so much a kiss as a sharing of breath. His hands worked in my hair, that touch barely noticed as his rhythm overwhelmed my senses. I moaned into his mouth, the sound involuntary as it left my throat. He rose up, and rocked faster, his hands clutching at my chest. His mouth fell open, his voice now coming just as involuntarily as mine had, and the thighs at my waist shook with effort as he rolled his hips with increasing furor.

Eventually, I moved my hands to hold him at his torso before flipping him to his back. The motion was smooth, as smooth as if it were choreographed, and it didn’t extricate me from him. Filling his mouth with my tongue, I sank deeper into his body. I laced my arms up beneath him, clutching him at his shoulders, holding him close to me. Breathing into his neck, I lay with him like this a moment, just taking in the feeling of his closeness and _acceptance_. Opening up to me like this represented _so much_ — something deep, unfathomably trusting, an incomprehensible _gift._

I moved after a time, sliding in and out of his body, which was somehow both firm and pliant. The solid planes of his form supported my weight, his embrace strong as he wrapped his arms and legs around me. I thrust harder into him when he dug his fingers into my shoulders, his clutch so tight I would find bruising there later. His chest lifted up under me, his voice crying out when I pushed as deeply into him as I could. He shifted his hands to close over my buttocks, gripping me when I moved to retreat, not letting me go. 

In a whirl of feeling, I came alive at the feeling of Wally’s body _humming_ beneath me, the skin skittering so rapidly it blurred the outlines of his form — the speedforce’s effect on his body in his heightened, excited state. I paused, gazing awestruck down at him, exhaling in astonished joy when he smiled up at me. I then kissed him so hard that when he bit my lip in return, it bled, and reached between us to stroke his cock in time with the rhythm I kept. I was still struck by how _long_ he was — how graceful and reaching. I _loved_ the feeling of his manhood in my hand.

Wally came first without warning, pulsing in my grip, the orgasm protracted and powerful. Thin fluid dampened my hand, watery blooms that welled in my palm and wet my fingers, then the cum followed in warm, stringy bursts, soaking both of our torsos. He held himself to me, his body a stiff plank against mine, his spine bowed. He was silent — his jaw working, his mouth slack — until the replete, heavy moan rolled from his throat. He sagged under me, his eyes meeting mine in a green daze as he dissolved into the coverlet, and _that_ was enough to push me over the edge. Burying my face in his neck, I shouted into the warmth of his skin, my own peak blacking my vision and draining all the strength from my body with each potent, overpowering throe. 

Limp, utterly spent, I sank atop him, breathing in gravelly heaves. Wally grasped my head, kissed my temple, and rested his free hand on the small of my back. Sweat and cum mingled on our skin.

“...Whoa,” I sighed after a while, still in a heady mix of disbelief and euphoria. 

Wally chuckled. “Yeah. That sums it up nicely.”

He stretched a little beneath me with a languid, satisfied sigh. I withdrew, and shifted to lie beside him. I studied his face, taking in the glowing eyes, flushed cheeks, wild hair. 

“...I did _not_ expect that to happen,” I admitted.

“Can’t say I did, either,” he said, and cupping my jaw, ran his thumb across my cheekbone. The motion made me smile in its sweet, tender, _boyfriendly_ quality — another thing I didn’t expect. “But I wanted to be prepared.”

I laughed. “I had stuff here, too, just in case, but… bless you for thinking ahead.”

He grinned and brushed his lips against mine. 

“So…” I said, lifting up on one elbow, gazing at him. “How are you feeling? I mean… are you okay?”

He laughed. “You act like I’m so virginal, dude. This ain’t my first rodeo into ass play, as we’ve already covered.”

I laughed, and rested my forehead against the bridge of his nose. “Okay. But still. Are you sure? I didn’t hurt you or anything?”

“Yes, I’m sure, and no more than I _wanted_ to be, Mr. Sensitive,” he said. “And speaking of that, if we just consummated this… I take it that it’s a Thing.”

“Yeah,” I said, grinning back. “It’s a Thing.”

“Hearts and flowers, boyfriend and boyfriend Thing,” he said.

“You said it first.”

He smothered my laugh with his lips. Reaching down, he cupped my buttocks and squeezed. “God, I swear nothing in the world’s got an ass like that.”

“Stop talking about my ass,” I said, drawing my lips from his jaw to his ear, “and _do_ something with it.”

He gave such a fiendish look I nearly went nuts on the spot. 

“Gladly,” he murmured.

  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

  
  


I took in a suffocated breath, an inhalation full of cotton and muffled sound. I turned my cheek to the pillow with an unsteady grunt, bracing myself with one hand gripping a fistful of sheets. The diffuse sound of skin striking skin reverberated through the quiet of the loft, pelvic bones audibly connecting with my backside. Wally slowed, his hands grasping my waist, and slid in deep, sinking down until a ragged, unintended whine unspooled from my throat. He rested inside me a moment, pressing his chest to my back, his breath warm on my skin. A hand passed over my hair, brushing along my face, finally closing lightly on the back of my neck. Wally rolled his hips, moving his lips up to nurse my earlobe. The heat of his outbreath bloomed into my ear, spreading gooseflesh across my skin.

“Look at me,” he murmured, and withdrew, shifting his weight above me.

I obliged, turning to rest on my back beneath him. He laced his hands in my hair, my head grasped in his hold on either side. His eyes bored into mine, febrile and vividly green.

“Can I say something that might come off as way too soon, considering we’re all of maybe three weeks into this?” he asked. 

“Depends,” I said, reaching up and brushing his hair away from his face. “Does it have anything to do with a pineapple, a jar of mayonnaise, and a donkey?”

He snorted, and rested his forehead against mine. “Regrettably, no. Although that discussion being had in the near future _might_ be negotiable.”

I laughed. “Sweet.” I sighed, content, cozy and _safe_ under the blanket of Wally’s body. “So what do you want to say?”

He was quiet a moment, studying me. 

“I’ve fallen and I can’t get up,” he said eventually.

I chuckled. “So… press your Life Alert? Take your Viagra?” 

He exhaled and rolled his eyes, although he smiled. “Dick. Come on. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.”

I was quiet, assimilating his words. They settled into my heart with a warmth that spread through the whole of my body, a soft, tingly feeling that outdid the warmest sunshine.

“Wally,” I said, “I think I’ve loved you since I first met you.”

His smile widened, and he kissed me. When he pulled away, I thumbed his cheek.

“How’s _that_ for too soon?” I asked. 

“It’s not,” he murmured, then shifted down my body, trailing kisses down the linea of my belly. “So say it again and fuck my mouth like it’s our last day on earth, Boy Wonder.”

I huffed in amusement — I’d always had a feeling Wally would talk dirty in flagrante, and that feeling had proven correct. 

“I’ve loved you since I first met you —” I lost the last word as his lips engulfed my cock, swallowing me down until I hit his throat in a rush of sensation. He rose and fell in a soft slide of damp heat, his tongue pulsing against the length of my erection. I hissed when his hand passed under me, a finger probing its way into my body. That hiss rose into a moan when his finger hooked and stroked, pivoting until my sight went acid white and my back lifted into a shaking bridge. I swiveled my hips and clutched at his hair, overcome, all of it cusping on too much for me.

I came screaming, galvanized and stricken blind and deaf as the peak — _peaks —_ ripped through my body like tidal waves. By the time they slowed and rescinded, still rippling through my form in little electric shocks, my throat burned and my cheeks were soaked from the tears that broke free of my lashlines. 

I lay, my chest jumping, my limbs splayed in a helpless sketch across my bed. Wally rose, wiping cum from his chin with the heel of one hand. He grasped his cock with his other, stroking himself as he gazed down at me. 

“God, I’ve loved you since I first met you — and I swear I could look at you like this for the rest of my life,” he said, breathless, his hand pumping faster. “Dick —”

He finished across my torso in a warm burst, sagging down over me, his forehead meeting my chest as he moaned through his orgasm. I nudged his face, angling his gaze to mine, and drew my fingers through the cum on my skin to suck them clean — then kissed Wally with such a fierceness that both of us forgot to breathe. 

_I’ve loved you since I first met you._

  
  


*******

  
  


I waltzed into the station, too cheerful to be affected by the general dour, stressed out mood of the place. I was _immune._ Nothing could touch me.

“Damn,” Gannon chuckled as he watched me make my happy, spunky way to my desk. “Someone got laid over the weekend.” 

“Maaaaaybe,” I allowed, grinning as I sat down. I theatrically shuffled some papers. 

“Yep,” he said. “You did. Lucky bastard.”

I smiled at him, and rested my hands behind my head. 

“Well, you netted a ten, you little shit, and I wish I could say I’m surprised,” he said with a grin. “Just don’t let the crime-addled streets of the Haven kill the afterglow.”

“ _Nothing_ today throws at me could kill the afterglow,” I assured him, then pulled my smartphone from my pocket when it buzzed.

All the air went out of my sails when I read the text message.

From Artemis: _Sooooooo how long have you and Wally been a Thing, you giant sneak?_

“And the afterglow might just be gone,” I said with a sigh. 

“That quick?” Gan asked, frowning at me from his desk. “What happened?”

“Well, you remember Artemis?” I asked. “Wally’s ex-girlfriend… incidentally my best non-Babs gal pal?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, she’s onto us,” I said. “It’s not necessarily _bad_ that she is, it’s not like Wally and I were trying to cavort around all covert-like, but… I don’t know, I’m pretty sure there’s some unspoken rule that once you get past the age of twenty there’s not supposed to be any like… intra-ex dating among groups of friends.”

“Who made up that rule, exactly?” Gannon asked. 

“I guess no one, but… I mean, it makes sense, kinda? Avoid drama, hurt feelings, misunderstandings, jealousy, show respect to loved ones… It’s all stuff you can kind of get over and move past when you’re kids, but carries more weight as adults.” 

Gannon inclined his head. “Sure, but I feel like at this age there’s also a level of understanding that comes with friends dating one another. Besides, from what I know of Artemis — she’s a good chick. I doubt she’ll want you or Wally to miss out on what’s looking like a good relationship so far.”

I nodded. “Yeah.” Then, I sighed, and lifted my phone. “Only one way to find out which camp she’s going to plant her flag in.”

I texted Artemis.

  
  
  



End file.
